Golden Saffron or Institution Green?
by Sad Mudokon
Summary: 4am does strange things to you. Beware ShyGuy fans. Being the lowest on the food chain is a hard place to be. (warning)
1. Default Chapter

Okay, full disclaimer, just so this doesn't get me in trouble. Don't read this unless, A) you're over 17, or B) feel you can handle it. 17s not THAT important, but ya know, it's a safety measure. If you're not over seventeen, or can't handle a nonconsentual situation with some low level all male Mario Bros universe monster (read: Yaoi, noncon, multi, m/m) I don't think I can make it any more specific. Sex. Not graphic, but there. Themses that might be disturbing to people. Gay stuff. If you don't like it, don't read it. I do NOT want flames for the content since I made the disclaimer it's OWN FRICKIN CHAPTER... *seeths* If yer still interested, read. 


	2. Omega

Golden Saffron or Institution Green?  
  
It was a new moon, there was no light to light the ground, no light to shine off the damp leaves or off the pale mask, or off the wrinkles in the cloth, or off the hands grasping the robe, or of the saline drops falling to the forest floor. There was enough light to flash off the round spout of a mouth pressed to the night dark cloth, the feeling unmistakeable on the flesh beneath, and the threat unmistakeable. Tilted in from the left, the bullet would enter his head and, although too weak to leave much of a mess, they'd leave him dead on the wet and rotting leaves without a second thought. And, being a Shy Guy, he was afraid of dying, so he silently kneeled in the slimy leaves. He'd have to wash the knees of his coat later. Water and mud had stained it, and it would be hard to get out. His ankles and shoeless feet were bare, as well as his lower parts to his back, robes hiked. He closed his eyes behind his mask, but nobody really cared. Shy Guys are supposed to cry. Thats what they do. They cry. They hide. And when caught, they submit.  
  
There were five of them, different hued flesh and different hued robes. People said the two clans looked similar, but the group looming over him was nothing like him. They illustrated this with another kick to the stomach, the one with the business end of his mask pressed to the back of his head steadied him as he tried to fall from pain. More tears fell, but he didn't feel ashamed. Shy Guys cried. They didn't care, nobody did. It wasn't a big thing. Shy Guys were nomadic by nature. They hid, moving from place to place, small troups usually consisting of the head of the family and a number of females. It was customary for boys to go out and found their own colonies after a certain time though. Snifits knew this, and it was the only time one could find a Shy Guy alone. Shy Guys alone otherwise were ridiculous. Such cowardly creatures.   
  
They had his legs wide apart and he took it silently, having loosened somewhat from the first initial ripping thrust that had set his scream echoing through the forest and scaring away a few large, predatory Albatross, sending them flapping out over the trees. he wished he could follow them, but they were almost done anyway. he kept count. Usually about three times each, he had what, a round to go, and he stood there, rocking softly as another one took position behind him.   
  
Big, Uugh. It made him feel sick inside, but it wouldn't make him throw up like bad food. So he'd be okay. Usually if they didn't press his chin to their snout and pull the trigger he just had to wait. Relaxation was the key. His brother had bled to death that way. Didn't relax. Didn't try to fight, just didn't relax. He had been driven away as was custom. They found him by the trees, robes hiked up around his waist.  
  
Hopefully he had been gone before the Albatross got him, got what was under the mask.  
  
They let him keep his mask. That was a good sign, and he counted his heartbeats, ever silent as most Shy Guys tend to be. They didn't like noise or struggling. That was a mistake. Can't make mistakes. Cant get scared- gets you hot. You get hot, you sweat and that gets cold when you try to sleep. Could get sick. Nopleasegetoutofme... no, control is the key to survival. That's what Shy Guys did. That, and cry.  
  
The one ahead of him kicked him again, this time in the arm and he nearly fell, but as it approached, small enough to fit through the mouthhole in his mask, he sucked obediently, working him as best he knew. He was a good little cocksucker. It was a common skill in roving Shy Guys. Had to survive. Could very well knock one more off his total of what was going on... back there. It wasn't with relish but it was with skill that he ran his tongue over the hot length, trying to please as best as he was able even as he felt the sick twist in his stomach as his lax flesh was pushed aside for another bored Snifit to use him. This one wasn't so much long as thick, and he felt it. didn't feel the others much, but this one he was feeling. They started talking after he made the sound in his throat.   
  
"Oh, little guy seems to like it."  
  
"I noticed that. Should I do him a favor?"  
  
Favors were bad. Favors cancelled survival and got you killed. Favors were bad oh, wait, he was just going to- oh, oh /god/... his fingers dug into the soil and the Snifit ahead of him obligingly withdrew its dick, content to hear the faint moans as the one behind him, robes a deep cobalt blue and wiry muscled arms fixed to his hips moved slowly, rhythmically, slickly within him, taking advantage of the natural, defensive lubricant that had developed, shamelessly plundering the Shy Guys most sensitive areas and gently running a hand over suddenly no longer laxened, hanging flesh. He didn't know enough to be ashamed anymore. Not used to feeling anything but sick, he leaned back shamelessly into the movement, making tiny desperate movements in his throat. The Snifit was merciless with his sudden erection, working him with expert fingers that showed he had been of this particular orientation a long time, and he found his head in his splayed arms and his rump in the air, begging for the sudden need that had taken root within him. He'd never felt this way before, despite having been caught and raped roughly seven times since he had been forced to leave his family in search of a mate. He was crying shamelessly, breath a sharp gasp as he whined as the Snifit obligingly increased it's pace and depth.  
  
"Look at me." It tore off his mask and he obligingly lifted black, wide eyes to the Snifit's steel gray/black mask.  
  
"LOOK AT ME!" His eyes stared, not looking away as a shocked mouth came open and he spilled his first seed, not into a female as he was expected to in his first moments of gentle lovemaking, but onto the slimy leaves of the forest floor, a stunned look on his face as he came helplessly, spasming around his rapist...   
  
"Now." The bullet slammed into the back of his head... though sadly for him, because the angle was off it missed puncturing his skull and instead clipped his trachea, severing his windpipe and burying itself in the dirt. An explosive cough brought a sharp breath of blood onto the Snifits mask as he stiffened, fingers tightening in the leaves as he fell foreward, off his last assailants dick and thudded, maskless and with his clothing in disarray in the half decomposed muck of the forest floor. He bled slowly, hands moving as the form gathered himself. To his credit, the last Snifit to leave the scene turned him onto his side, slipping his mask on and gently kissing it as he rearranged his own robes, complaining to the leader as the pack of Snifit left the area.  
  
It wasn't fair that it was taking him this long to die. He was here, he was shot and he was bleeding. He should be dead. Albatross could get through his mask and he wanted to be dead when they ate his eyes. Wishing death after such a long life of staying alive was wierd though, as he felt their sperm slipping out of him as he lay bleeding...  
  
A drone of wings. It was here, and it was going to peck his eyes out and eat them. He tried to move his hands to protect his eyes but he couldn't move anymore. Things were getting kinda fuzzy, oddly fuzzy and he slumped a little, falling onto his back and began to slowly drown, looking up into the star splashed sky. Coughing wasn't getting rid of it anymore and he bubbled, knowing as soon as he tried to draw another breath he'd probably start struggling from the drowning sensation like he had when he was a child and fell in the stream. He held his breath. held it. held it... A drone of wings, closer now, hand on his face, taking away his mask. He spit blood, and the breath happened, and he was struggling, fighting the burning that wouldn't go away and he was crying shamelessly and fading... and the lips found him as the one above him also slipped up its mask, and she looked down at him with a smile, faerie wings fluttering behind her. A buzzy. Buzzies were stories, but she looked so real. So he really was dying... but suddenly she reached around him, taking him to her and BURNING, burning, he cried out, spitting blood all over her gray robes but she didn't seem to notice and he couldn't breathe and it hurt it hurt it hurt... but then it didn't hurt anymore and she was touching the new fragile membranes that had grown, and he rubbed at a throat no longer severed, a skull no longer cracked. His robes, previously a gentle institution green had changed as well. Saffron. He'd always wanted saffron but Shy Guys didn't argue. They took what they were given. Or took what was forced upon them. But Buzzies could, and he took the twin headed trident that was handed to him, nodding and she helped him to his feet. He would fly. And he wouldn't ever have to Cry ever again.  
  
Okay, so I decided to give it a good ending, instead of just leaving him lying dead in the grass. Or did I? Maybe he lay there dying, hallucinating as he suffocated on his own blood, and his family troup came across his body a week and a half later? Interesting question. What do you think? 


End file.
